Heart
by Slightly Sinister Sinestra
Summary: The Prince of Lies sent Dracula back from hell, but with one crucial difference. What does the vampire prince do with a heart that feels? STRANGE oneshot. Kinda crap. Read and see.


Forgive me. I had an urge to write something off the wall. I've never written a Van Helsing fic, and this will probably be the one and only, but anyway. Enjoy.

Heart

_Hell. Again in hell. 400 years trying everything he knew to remain free of it, and here he was again, bowing before the Prince of Lies, thrown back to his doom by the left hand of God. Thrown back to suffer by his murderer, his tormentor. Van Helsing. Gabriel. Again, that man destroyed his works, his dark wonders. But he would have revenge. The Prince of Lies, though not merciful, enjoyed the darkness the vampire could bring. His dark father had once given him wings. Now, he would give him vengance, for Gabriel was a foe both would see destroyed. Now, Dracula would fly again, and bring darkness once more._

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"NO! He cannot have returned! I _killed _him! Anna gave her life so I could kill him! You _cannot_ tell me that creature of hell has returned!" Van Helsing roared. Carl retreated, warily. Van Helsing followed, furious. "Dracula _cannot_ _have returned_! You cannot mean it!" He caught Carl up by the throat, blind in his rage and horror, and shook the hapless monk. Carl grasped his hands.

"Van Helsing, _I _didn't bring him back. Put me down! You think I like this either? It's not my fault! Please?" _Really please. I really don't want to be bashed about by you in a bad mood. Just put me down, there's a good fellow._ Carl wasn't any happier about the situation than his friend, and being throttled wasn't helping. He watched as the rage drained slowly from Van Helsing's eyes, to be replaced by shame. The man placed him back on his feet, and released him, straightening his shirtfront apologetically.

"I'm sorry, Carl. I'm sorry. It's just ... Really? He's really back?" Carl nodded, still a little miffed about his mishandling. But he understood what Van Helsing was feeling. All that effort, all that pain and loss, and not two years later the creature had returned. Reports had flooded in from Transylvania, as horrifed villagers realised that the curse had returned to haunt them. There was no doubt. It was Dracula.

"The heads of the Order think that the Devil may have given him new life. They don't know what price it would have cost, or what he intends now. They are sure, though, that he would not have been let return without reason. The Dark One will have sent him for some dark purpose. And guess who has to find out what?" Carl finished bitterly. It was always them. He now knew how Van Helsing felt. Ever since the Transylvania mission, he was the hunter's official partner. Little lab-work, and plenty of tempting Death on damned missions. What _fun_!

Van growled. A leftover from the lycanthropy, it was a very convincing threat and expression of anger. Carl swallowed. He didn't like Van Helsing in this mood, partially because anyone in range got viciously attacked. Verbally, of course. Usually. Sometimes. At least no-one had yet died. Though Carl had come close once or twice, when his partner threw something that didn't take well to being thrown. Van always apologised tersely afterwards, which from the taciturn man was a great concession. Carl almost always forgave him. Eventually.

"So. Back to Transylvania?" Van didn't wait for an answer, striding off into the maze of corridors under the Vatican, gathering equipment as he went, still growling under his breath. Sighing, Carl followed.

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"So, my friends, you have returned," Dracula growled silkily. The vampire paced around them musingly. Carl was beginning to regret agreeing to his partner's proposal that they simply _ask_ the evil creature what he wanted. What kind of hairbrained idea was that? And more fool him for listening to Van's assurances that Dracula wouldn't kill them until he'd said his piece and gloated a bit. That still meant the vampire would kill them _afterward_. That still meant they were dead.

"Welcome back, Gabriel. I have been waiting for you," Dracula stated.

"I know. You came back for me."

"You think so, Gabriel? What a high opinion you have of yourself. What makes you think that?" Dracula sounded mildly curious, but his intense gaze belied that impression. He looked almost ... desperate? Surely not. Occasional fits of rage aside, Dracula never betrayed that much emotion. Not unless it was faked.

"Why else would the Devil allow you to return? It would have to be something suitably dark and impassioned. He likes vengance, as a rule, doesn't he?" Van Helsing sounded equally casual. Only Carl, standing practically on top of him, could detect the faint tremble of fury, and maybe fear. Carl didn't blame him. He himself was terrified out of his mind. Usually he left the confrontation of dark creatures to Van Helsing. He hadn't a clue what possible use he was going to be here.

"Oh, very perceptive of you, Gabriel. Indeed, he sent me to gain me vengance. It's almost ... parental ... the way he indulges me. However, the Prince of Lies is also rather taken with betrayal. It amuses him. So I've decided to amuse him."

Carl started. "What do you mean?" he asked, before he could stop himself.

Dracula glanced at him with amusement. "So it speaks. I thought you'd swallowed your tongue, you were so unresponsive. As to your question ... Isn't it obvious? I've decided to betray the Devil. We'll both get a kick out of it."

Carl knew he should just shut up and let Van Helsing take care of this, but his inquisitive nature got the better of him. "How? And why? Aren't you supposed to be allies?"

Dracula laughed. "Curious, aren't you? No, we are not allies. We are both evil, how could we be? He gives me what I want, for a price, and in return I spread a little darkness. It works out in the end. But this time, his price was too high. I don't like being violated. So I don't think I'll obey his wishes."

"Price?"

Dracula only looked at him for a moment, then lunged and caught him up into a tight embrace. Carl gasped. Van Helsing grabbed for him, but the vampire danced back out of range, carrying Carl with him.

"Now, now, Gabriel. I only want to show the little monk something. Patience, my old friend, patience," he cautioned. Carl struggled ineffectively in his grasp. He went still as Dracula caught his chin in his free hand and raised his face. "Hush now, little monk. I merely want to answer your question. You do want the answer, don't you?" Carl tried to sneer, but the effort was wasted. Dracula released his face, and took up his hand instead. Carl blinked. Gently, almost intimately, Dracula drew it up and rested it on his own neck. Carl jerked back, but the vampire was implacable.

"Feel that, little monk? Feel it? That's my pulse, my heart. He gave it back. He gave me feeling again. Not the simple anger and ambition I knew before, but pain and sorrow and loss and grief and love. He sent me to endure eternity with the capacity to _feel_ my every loss and mishap. Everything! I feel pain now. I feel the need for companionship. I feel grief for the loss of my brides for the first time. Do you understand? No more am I hollow. No more can I wreak destruction without feeling its repercussions. I'm no better than a human! Do you see?" He shook Carl, his inhuman strength making it a less than unpleasant experience. Then, just as suddenly, he released him. Carl scrambled back, fetching up against Van Helsing's legs.

Dracula looked at them both, a strange expression on his face. "Such companions, the two of you. Such loyal friends. I didn't realise what pain the sight of you would bring. I didn't realise what ... what is this called? This longing? This need? It is unlike my need for blood. It is nothing I have felt before. Do you know what I want? Can you tell me?" He looked at them eagerly. Van Helsing said nothing. Looking between them, Carl wondered at that.

"Maybe ... you want a friend? Or a lover? Someone to be with you?" He ventured, hesitantly. Dracula considered it.

"How does one get a ... friend? How do I even know that's what I want?"

_Hell, I don't know! What am I supposed to tell him? Find someone who isn't intimidated by the whole 'Prince of the Undead' thing? How was he supposed to manage that? Talk about surreal!_

"Um, not killing everyone you meet might help. And less of the plots to overrun the world with your undead progeny, too. After that, you're pretty much on your own. You just have to find someone who understands you for who you are." _And I'm giving social advice to a hellspawn. I wonder who'd understand _me_ for who I am, after this? Aside from Van, of course._

"Show me!" the vampire commanded.

"What?"

"Show me how to approach this thing. Show me how to get what I ... need." He growled suddenly, getting his next words out through gritted fangs, reluctantly.

"Help me."

Carl stared. Then, abruptly, he laughed. The situation was undoubtedly ridiculous, but what struck him in that moment was how like Van Helsing the vampire looked, so uncertain and unwilling to ask for the help he obviously needed. They were two of a kind, though both would be gravely offended if he mentioned this.

"What do you say, Van?" he laughed. "Want to show the vampire how to socialise? Not that you know how to yourself, or me, for that matter. Want to learn together?" Van stared at him as if he were made, then turned his incredulous gaze on Dracula. The two stared at each other, measuring, assessing. Carl, caught between them, could only watch with amusement.

Finally, Van shrugged. "Why not?" he sighed. "Why the hell not?"

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Okay, I did warn you it was a weird urge. _Very_ weird. I just had to get it out of my system. Happy days! R&R, but only if you fancy.


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